Daisy asked.
Hudson laughed. “Joseph and George were looking at a paper and there was a picture of Richard in it. He was moving from the East Coast to the West Coast. They literally looked at a picture of a man who could’ve been them. It wasn’t hard to dig into the story and figure it all out after that.”
“Wow,” Daisy said. She’d completely dropped her defenses in her fascination with the story. “Is it difficult to become a part of a family that’s targeted so much when you’ve lived a normal life up until a couple of years ago?”
He thought about her question for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess talking about it is more dramatic than living it. Meeting my brother for the first time shook my world and is still making my head spin, but I wasn’t part of the Anderson family until recently, so it all seems like a book I’m reading instead of the reality I now exist in.”
“I think a lot of people would be shocked to realize that a lot of fiction is based on real life. I was reading a biography from an author I really respect, and she to the interviewer that she used reality in her work all of the time. Considering some of the thrillers she writes, I was truly shocked to hear that . . . and I might be a little wary if I were her husband.”
Both Hudson and Darla laughed. “I don’t think any artist can fully separate their art from reality. It would be too impersonal then,” Hudson said.
“That makes sense,” Daisy told him. “I had to love what I was talking about when I was writing articles. I tried to be unbiased, but that’s nearly impossible. If you can’t feel something, then you shouldn’t be writing about it in the first place.”
The conversation paused and Hudson glanced over at Darla who was grinning as she looked between him and Daisy. She seemed quite pleased. He wanted to know why.
“Carry on,” Darla said. “I’m simply enjoying the show.”
Shutters came over Daisy’s eyes as she seemed to realize she’d been enthusiastic about her conversation with him. Maybe she didn’t loosen up very often. She’d been standoffish on the plane until their heat had nearly consumed them.
“What are you doing here?” Daisy asked, the friendliness gone from her tone. He smiled, not letting it bother him in the least.
“I saw you two beautiful ladies looking like you could use some company, and I thought I’d join you.”
“We didn’t need company. We’re shopping the market,” she informed him. It was fascinating how she could go from friendly and open to closed and distant in the span of a single second. He liked that he could get under her skin so easily. He wanted to do it a lot more often.
“I love shopping. I’ll join you,” he told her, not willing to end this when it was getting better by the minute.
He saw rejection in her eyes, but before she could speak, Darla jumped back into the conversation. “That would be great. I can always use a bag holder.”
“I’m here to serve,” he said as he rose. He gathered up the garbage from their lunch and stepped over to a can, throwing it away. “Let’s stop for an iced coffee first. I bet I can get a great one here.”
“Oh, a man after my own heart,” Darla said. “I can’t get enough caffeine. No soda or beer at night for me; I drink coffee all day long.”
“I can have a coffee nightcap before bed and still sleep like a baby,” Hudson told her.
“Me too,” Darla exclaimed. “My friends think I’m crazy for the amount of coffee I drink, but it’s much better than some habits people have.”
“Do I get a say in any of this?” Daisy asked, joining the two of them as they moved toward a booth selling coffee and pastries.
“Nope, my darling bestie, you don’t. I like this guy. He got you talking which is a miracle, and I want him to stick around for a while,” Darla said as she linked an arm through Hudson’s. He grinned at her. Yep. He’d known getting an in with the bestie was a smart move. He’d been right again.
“I talk just fine, Dar,” Daisy said with a bit of a pout. Hudson noted her eyes were drawn for several seconds on her best friend’s arm wound through his. Was she jealous? That would be interesting. He liked her best friend,